FreeFall
by Sigma404
Summary: How does a mentally unstable teenager sent by tech support cope with the death of his beloved brother? A dark and sufficiently romantic story concerning nothing more than how everything in the World of Remnant can be melancholic, depressing... and beautiful. Also delves into theories on how certain RWBY technologies could be realistic and practical, such as the scroll. OC story.
1. Chapter 1

_Edited, chapters 1 &amp; 2 merged as both served as introductory drivers XD_

* * *

_Beacon Gardens - 1AM - Unknown Point of View_

Things bite like this. How cliche, I can't even remember my own name. Where am I? The building and grounds sprawled out before me would be beautiful if I wasn't bleeding out.

How ironic. I always wanted to die, but now that I am doing exactly that for a honorable cause... I've never been so scared in my life. I don't want it to end. How unoriginal.

At least this is unique. I never got shot by a physical weapon before. Its not like fire dust, a much cleaner affair. I can see my entrails spread before me, like some macabre artist's psyche, mixed with more blood then I can afford to lose.

I know. I'll write a death note. My younger brother, despite being a (surprisingly) social adept nerd, who (surprisingly again) can actually hold his own in combat.

I hope.

Lets see now... It seems as if the pen he gave me that the same younger brother insisted that I always carry has finally come to use for its first time. How depressing. For how long has the scrap paper and beautiful black and gold pen been sitting restlessly in my hands? An eternity, desu.

My hands seem so clumsy today. Its hard to believe that they propelled the poleaxe that had been split in two by the sword/rifle hybrid weapon that my attacker wielded. Strange how my assailant seems to have dissipated. I should include that in these last words of mine. They are italicized, as follows.

_I don't know who I am. I forget the name of my only family. I don't know why I'm here. But I lost. I'm alone._

To die alone. Little brother among all his quirks will not only hate how I died without a proper goodbye, but will be driven by it. Unforgivable, as he would say. At least I have you, the fabrication of my mind which I formed to make my last minutes less choleric. Help me into a peaceful death, please listen to my thoughts.

_My attacker carried a unique weapon, a Katana with a rifle embedded in the blade. It fired a metal bullet, which will cause death by-_

How cruel. The pen died, maybe the inkwell dried from a lack of use, through the abusive damage I have caused it? At least I have plenty of blood, let me dip the tip of it into the hole in my gut.

_-It's wounds._

How ironic. The boy who couldn't shut up in class will have difficulty forming words in death. Here, my writing degrades slowly in clarity as I continue to inscribe in the most melancholic way that I can.

_Last words... How do you write them?_

* * *

_Beacon Front Entrance - 5AM (four hours later) - Tobia's Point of View_

Send the nerd. Always. Someone has issues with the WiFi? Send the nerd. This would be easier if this Miss Goodwitch just stopped trying to take my dual Trench Spikes (a sword meant to be held upside down with a brass knuckle full hand guard with hidden built dust crystals, one blade with ice, the other, fire). I'm not a murderer, but the guy sent to troubleshoot the network. At least let me visit my family every so often.

Sure, I love my job, but these days...

"Look, the tech department doesn't get to visit the dormitories. There's a reason why the central system is controlled from a separate building, and don't give me the hardware excuse."  
"Seriously? My brother attends this school, this is just my part time job! Don't blame me for visiting him once in a while."  
"A likely story."

At this point, the good teacher's own scroll chirps a ringtone to alert her to what appears to be a message. As I wait for the woman to attend to the matter, I glance around to see Vale Police Department carrying away a filled body bag. Not too far away, a significant quantity of blood added another feature to the garden, a stark contrast against the thick green grass and gentle arrangements.

"Hey, what happened here, Miss?"  
"Someone got shot in the garden, but not by a dust weapon. Its strange, who uses those archaic guns anymore?"

I simply shrug.

"My older brother collects them. He's a senior here, actually."

Distractedly, Glynda swipes at her screen.

"Oh yeah? And who was he?"  
"Bryan Galen, and not was, but is. He isn't dead yet, he should have at least another fifty years on him."

As I chuckle at my own retort, the Professor slowly began to look up from her device. Bursting from behind a bush, a girl with a rapier at her side clad mostly in white and blue with attitude and anger to spare appears.

"How the hell could you laugh when your brother is being brought away in a body bag?"

She raises her hand to strike my cheek, but I simply step out of harms way as her hand only meets empty air. As a policeman carried away a broken poleaxe which I recognized all too well, I sunk to my knees, and unleashed a blood curdling scream of pain and wrath.

"He can't be dead! Unforgivable! Unforgivable! Unforgivable!"

Glynda then gave Weiss a withering glance. "Aren't you a real people's person?"

* * *

_Beacon Exterior Grounds - 8AM (the next day) - Tobia's Point of View_

Someone had to replace the skilled pole-weapons master. The dearest headmaster naturally looked towards me, his only true family hoping to acquire another master of a rare skill similar to Ruby's talents with her Scythe. Instead, he was faced with me, who kept a sheathed pair of blades which were designed not out of art, or skill, but in the middle of a gruesome ancient war: something that appeared to be crass to the older man. All the same, someone needed to take his place as experienced applicants were few and the academy simply needed students. I never wanted to apply to Beacon, though. I could learn all the same skills either behind my scroll, or sparring with my brother, but seeing as how he also happened to be my legal adult, I was faced with two options. Apply into Beacon under Ozpin's custody, join the Military, or spend a year or two in an orphanage. Already having work at Beacon and an apartment in Vale, I could legally live on my own without trouble while Bryan was alive. Attending this battle school simply was the lesser of the evils.

How wonderful, the headmaster is now the equivalent to a father who has nothing to nothing to offer me but badly hidden disappointed eyes. Can't please everyone. Naturally, the very concept that pacification can never be truly offered to everyone must have immediate proof: as the same particular Weiss had been moving a large quantity of Dust in the path I happened to be wandering along. Thankfully the powdered wares had not been activated in the collision which sent us and the boxes of dust sprawled across the ground, but that wouldn't stop the girl with more cash than muscle between her ears from preparing to chew me out.

"Watch where you're going, idiot! Oh, its you... Idiot, what are you even doing here still?"

Exasperated, I offer what every heiress needs for Christmas: sarcasm.

"Since Ozpin realized that such an inept student like yourself was running around carelessly with dangerous explosives, he decided to import some talent."

The girl turning red faster than an erupting volcano, it was clear that I had crossed some line. To recover, I rolled my eyes and continued.

"Don't think I'm here because I want to be. Not every nerd wants to join the military because their brother died."

But why should I even bother to play nice? I don't even like this girl who had been close to the brother. Cutting Weiss off a second time, I spat venom before I made my exit.

"Save your breath, Deity of Darkness, or this year you'll be learning the meaning of frostbite."

Quickly rising back on my feet, I turned on my heels and left, leaving a bewildered Weiss on the ground with a large collection of powdered dust and solid crystals. Soon finding myself before the doors of Beacon, I sigh. That wasn't a particularly good way to start off the beginning of my time here. I should have stayed and helped with the cleanup, irrelevant of what I had said to my peer. Looking back over my shoulder, I observe what seemed to be the other members of her team helping her recover from the collision. Shaking my head, I enter the school to find an old friend, someone I had been hoping to run into: Jaune.

My face shattering from its cruel and stony form, I call out to an old friend of both mine, and my now deceased brother.

"Hey Jaune! How've you been, what, a few weeks since I last saw you around?"

Shaking his head, he somewhat turned away.

"I don't care about who you lost. You don't treat anyone like that, definitely not Weiss."  
"You saw that? How perceptive of you. Maybe if you employed a superior level of such a sense, then I would be here visiting with Bryan on his first official day back, rather then attending in his place."

Walking away, I leave now a second hurt and bewildered student in my bitter wake. Who am I kidding? I don't even want to be here. I will never make a single friend in this place, but how is that even a detriment? If I instead am left with enemies, then not only will I improve my skills far faster from conflict, but have a much more interesting time in this prison. Before I could escape earshot of the blonde, he answered.

"That's unfair and you know it! Wait, what? You're staying? Get back here, I'm not finished!"

Trying to escape the other teenager, I try to break off in a run, hands on the hilts of my blades. Isn't this going to be a fun year?


	2. Chapter 2

_Beacon, The Washroom - Tobias' Point of View (an hour later)_

These people really drain my energy. Or do I get that sense that I just ran an unwilling marathon to get away from Jaune's inquisition? Running all the same is evil, but perhaps its that attitude which left me with such low stamina. I'll have to force myself into doing runs across the ground if I want to survive this place.

Shaking my head, I entered a stall and pressed my back to a stall wall. Removing a small box from my pocket, I open the container to reveal a few small bottles and a syringe.

For how long has this been my hidden desire? I don't need friends. I don't even need a brother, why do I keep bringing him up? My world is inside this box. Now I must be careful, if what I remember about chemistry and psychology is correct, when I'm at the greatest risk of overdose here than at home simply since I feel insecure here. Apparently, the insecure mentality should pressure me into that higher dosage... And I can't help but feel that I should do exactly that. But I know better than this... But what if I need more...

Stopping myself, palm of hand in face, I take a deep breath, and correct the dosage. This will kill me someday, I know it. Can I ween myself off? Lets try as of... Now.

Always use the repeating method of inhibition, that's one easy mandate I could adhere to. Placing the case and sufficiently filled syringe aside, I take off my shirt to quickly find a simple mechanism I installed onto my own skin: a needle, securely fixed to a vein with a disposable cap. Through the needle that I have embedded in me, I could inject whatever chemical for whatever purpose without pain or mistake. Opening the cap, I then moved to slowly begin injecting myself with that wonderful little liquid. Should I say that all my worries have just dissipated, something like snow in summer? Once finished, I choose not to linger, quickly cleaning up and putting my shirt back on. Walking up to the mirror, it seems that my very image also wishes to confront me.

Pale white skin, clad in black from head to toe with eyes that never seem to maintain the exact same color of brown. That's right. My preference to a dark palate had really been the only difference between us. How ironic. He was the day, and I am the night in the same way that Jaune would have gladly given his file to attend this school. I hate this place. Its not only where the eldest of us died, but where he met the person that would lead him to his death. I know it. And I know who held that dark compass. I'm not entirely blind.

Walking out of the washroom, I continued to ride my train of thought. It isn't every day that a person changes in nearly every way due to a third party's influence, and gets murdered exactly a week later. Ignoring those around me, including Jaune who I lost easily due to the number of students in the halls, I begin to look for some place to buy a set of school uniforms. There's no point on standing out or being ill prepared for class, sticking out like a sore thumb. Sure, today nearly nobody is wearing their associative uniforms, but if you fail to plan, then you plan to fail.

Snapping me out of my half lucid state of mind, came the sound of a nearby painful collision involving Weiss Schnee for the second time, a cart transporting an assortment of painfully heavy objects, and a young first year student. Keeping at a safe distance, I watched as Weiss's scroll slipped from her pocket after she fell, then being destroyed under one of the cart's wheels. Soon enough, the apologies were made in between the two students as they attempted to clean the mess. While neither of them were paying attention, I quickly swiped the device which had nearly been snapped in two, now nothing more than a bent and warped expensive bit of technology. Quickly making myself scarce, I begin my search for my dorm.

It may not be the best day for any of us, all senses of Deja Vu aside, but maybe I can achieve some good. Who knows, this bit of technology might be an effective trump card later on.


	3. Chapter 3

_Beacon, BEER Dormitories - Tobias' Point of View (an hour later)_

Finally finding the dormitory, I open and swing aside the door on its hinge, slowly. If need be, I would very much like to see the place when nobody else is around. Despite that dream, a wonderful fantasy of being bothered by other members of humanity I suddenly feel a strong hand reach around the slightly opened door to forcefully pull me through. Stumbling my way in, I find myself pulled along and thrown on a bed by a girl with dirty blonde hair, lightly tanned skin, who stood a few inches taller than I. Offering my protest, I scramble backwards in a crab walk, narrowly evading a bodyslam.

"What the hell do you think you're doing?"

Sitting up, the girl pouted her retort.

"What the hell are YOU doing, Bryan? Since when do you wear so much black?"

I narrowed my eyes narrow to slits as the degrees to which this female could annoy me slow and steadily climbed steadily.

"Well, maybe I'm not Bryan, and he was shot last night to his death. But who are you, big brother mentioned nothing about some girl... Actually, we were never introduced, are you from another team?"

Eyes suddenly lighting up, I began to further shuffle backwards as the girl began to encroach on my personal space, moving ever closer... And closer...

"Well, looks like baby brother Tobias finally gets to figure out that Bryan actually has a girl or two on his team."

Suddenly stopping in her tracks, she sat on her legs, somewhat kneeling.

"Well, it would be too cliche for a team called BEER to be made up of only guys."

Sitting properly, I did the only thing I felt was right: agree.

"Fair enough. Wait, BEER? Seriously? Ozpin organized a team's name into BEER?"  
"Hey, someone's gotta be the comic relief. And yes. I know he's dead. I'm Raeburn, by the way."

Before I could properly introduce myself, Raeburn then reached up and flicked my nose. Leaning away from the interloper of my spacial comfort, I then hissed at her: something which would prove to be a mistake. Her voice much like a young girl queeing in delight at a cute stuffed toy, she then pinned me down with one hand, searching around my thick black hair with the other.

"OH MY GOD YOU SOUND LIKE A CAT! ARE YOU A FAUNUS, WERE YOU ADOPTED? THAT MEANS YOU HAVE EARS, RIGHT? CAN I PLAY WITH YOUR EARS!?"  
"Raeburn..." My face then began to burn red hot, my blushing transparently revealing my state of mind. "... Get off me..."

As I began to struggle in the attempt of removing my assailant from atop me, wishing to be rid of this very emotionally distressful circumstance, I could hear the door reopen as a male and a female voice entered the room. The female of the two spoke up, equally amused and indignant.

"Raeburn! Heel!"  
"Come on, don't make me!"  
"Raeburn, get off me... Please."

Now finally able to sit up, I could now see how the curious Raeburn stood clad: thigh high leggings, short shorts, and a hoodie. Now turning to my saviors, I find another familiar face. Standing next to the girl who presumably saved at least a portion of my dignity stood a rather... 'Regal' figure.

"Earl! Nice to see you again!"  
"Ahem... Its Earl of Pudding."

Picking up into our usual banter, stand on the bed and bow as best I can.

"But of course, my fine Earl, how be the Realm of Pudding?"  
"Very well, my fair acquaintance. May I introduce the lovely Evelyn, who freed you from the shackles of the dark dragon?"

As I waved regally to Evelyn, Raeburn took the moment to offer some indignation of her own: I suppose not everyone enjoys being refereed to as a creature of torment.

"Pleasure to meet you, Evelyn. Am I to suppose that this is team... Dare I say it... BEER?"

Nodding, I look around, and take the opportunity to get off the bed and escape the reach of Raeburn. Evelyn walking over to sit beside Raeburn, having a chat.

"Hey... Rae-Rae? Next time you harass the new kid, do it on your own bed."


	4. Chapter 4

_Ever wondered how those strange little tablets, or 'scrolls' of the RWBY series worked? Here's my personal speculation. By no means am I any kind of expert in any degree of technology, but I've been around the block. Here's my two cents on how the little system works, assuming that the little rig is even practical and realistic._

_For those who are unfamiliar with the trench spike (also known as the trench knife), [Edited and redacted, the system censors out the URLs of other sites]__  
Please note that the OC's personal weapon is nothing more than a trench knife/spike which has been lengthened enough to qualify as a (short) sword. _

* * *

_BEER Dorm - Tobias' Point of View_

I'm glad there's a table in here. It may be nothing more than a large desk, but it made the perfect working surface. After getting the others to help me move a thing or two from my apartment, I got to work on Weiss's broken scroll. The repair of scrolls is a daunting task, most people throwing their scroll away the instant it takes any significant damage, not even bothering to recover the data on it. The system makes daily backups quietly without the user putting any real effort into the system anyways. Due to the small size of the device, an inexperienced repairman risks his life when opening a damaged scroll, without exaggeration. With dust powering every single scroll, simply the matter of repairing a scroll was more so a question of if you knew how open the device up without blowing yourself up. Sure not needed to ever charge your scroll was nice, and the dust would only be volatile when the scroll in question was powered on... Just blowing on any dust is really enough to activate the strange powder. The fact that the girl's scroll didn't explode on getting run over just proves how well these devices are made.

But I'm a super nerd.

King of the geeks.

Techie of all the techies.

High explosive everyday products are my personal favorite.

Gotta live life on the edge, with tablets that run the risk of detonation while in mid use.

Never know when you might need a convenient grenade.

When team BEER went to retrieve things from my apartment (with the reward of pizza, because otherwise there was no chance that anyone was going to lend a hand), a large suitcase of electrical repair tools and accessories was among the small caravan of clothes and tech gear. Setting the destroyed scroll down on the table beside the open suitcase, I removed a small prying tool from my suitcase, removing the thin but strong casing that protected the internal mechanisms of the tablet itself. The explosive nature isn't the only reason why people avoid repairing these, but the small form factor. The series of tiny parts make everything tedious, and easy to destroy on disassembly. Furthermore, removing and reattaching parts usually demanded experience in soldering and unsoldering various small parts, many of these sensitive to heat in certain spots.

It would take nerves of steel to remove the dust battery: the first part that had to be removed, and also the item in question that made the device explosive in its nature.

Also a steady hand, you don't want to go around dropping dust batteries.

Because the developers of the scroll couldn't make it easy.

But since when was fun ever easy?

After disconnecting the battery from the device's main electronic board (or motherboard), I pause, and take a deep breath. Its a good thing I didn't immediately try to pry the dust battery out, because as I took a moment for a deep breath, Baeburn decided to intrude, wrapping her arms around my neck, her chin on my right shoulder, making me jump in my cheat.

"Whats going on, baby brother? Trying to hide something?"

Slumping back in my chair, I proceeded to tell off the dirty blonde.

"You realize that I'm currently tearing apart a broken scroll? You know, the device notorious for exploding in the hands of those trying to fix it, particularly when they get jumped by annoying teammates?"  
"Sheesh, me-ow. You know Tobias, if you really want me to leave you alone, you could just as- HOLY SHIT YOU REALLY ARE TRYING TO FIX A SCROLL!"

After noticing the uncased and destroyed device on the table, she instantly released my neck and proceeded to hide behind my chair.

"Took you long enough to notice... Rae-Rae."

Pulling a newspaper roll from seemingly nowhere, the paper lead by Raeburn's arm began to repeatedly and sharply descend upon my head with the analog paper of grief. Raising my left arm over to my head shield myself, my right dropped to one of my trench spikes. Finally deciding to tell me why I was being subjected to this abuse, the same Rae-Rae began to speak in between strikes.

**thwack.**

"I..."

**thwack.**

"...Didn't..."

**thwack.**

"...Say..."

**thwack.**

"...You..."

**thwack.**

"...Could..."

**thwack x2**

"...Call..."

**thwack.**

"...Me..."

**thwack x9 critical strike! its super effective!**

"RAE-RAE!"

Slumping over in my chair, I simply sat there, limp, while a very sensitive raw explosive sat just a two feet away from me on a simple wooden table. Addressing my assailant for the second time running, I asked the following, meekly:

"Rae-R..."

The menacing newspaper hung like a hangman's noose, threatening and heavy in every poetic way alike George Orwell's thought police. Correcting myself, I try again.

"Raeburn, you realize... That just by accidentally rocking the table too hard, you could have killed us both?"  
"Don't care, baby bro. Scooch over."

Quickly shuffling aside in my seat, I made some room for the demanding girl. It's a good think that this chair is rather large, or else this would have been an awkward fit.

"Alright, you're going to tell me about how this thing works."

Turning my head to the girl that not only super critical struck the back of my head nine times back to back, not to mention the volley that came before it, I glared at her in moderate surprise and a healthy dose of hostility.

"You really think that after sexually harassing me, then nearly killing us both, I'd be in any hurry to spend quality time with you? Especially in reassembling a commercialized household bomb?"

Nodding energetically, the Rae-Rae in question had offered her soul crushing response before rapping me in the head with the role of newsworthy paper.

**thwack.**

"Raeburn... Just... _Why?_"  
"You called me Rae-Rae, just now, in your mind."

Suddenly finding a complex thought in the deepest trove of my mind, I answered with a question that may have torn at Raeburn's being at it's core.

"Oh Raeburn..." I began, with a sing song tone. "Did you give yourself permission to call yourself... Uh... That alias?"

* * *

_15 Minutes Later - Tobia's Point of View_

Once that dearest Raeburn had exited the self induced trauma of an internal paradox, both of our attentions finally returned to the device on the desk.

"Hey Tobias, how does the scroll open and close without any parts holding it together? It seems as if the holographic screen keeps it together while being used."

Starting to unscrew the motherboard from the other half of the casing, I replied simply.

"Depends on the model. Some use an electromagnetic field: basically a set of directed magnets with increase in strength as you pull the two sides apart. Other models simply use thin flat lengths of Plexiglas stuck to gears. This one uses the magnets, which is a bit heavier on the battery, but its more durable for that reason. The user's ability to use this thing isn't limited to if he or she sat on it recently. However the magnets require careful calibration when the product is built, and far higher quality and therefore far more expensive parts. However, this is Weiss's scroll after all..."

I let Raeburn figure out what I meant by the last sentence on her own. Then she raised a question that somewhat surprised me: I hadn't expected her to think into a matter like pure and applied technology.

"But... Wouldn't that magnet... Electrofield... Thingy... Mess with the electronics?"

Nodding, I offer another explanation.

"Another reason why the magnet system is more expensive is that exactly. As a work around, under the casing is a thin layer of high purity copper. This acts as a shielding, which absorbs any damage the magnet would have on the electronics powered by the dust here. The copper has to be pure, or else the magnets would detonate the dust battery."

Seeing that same battery next to the magnets, the dirty blonde's eyes suddenly bulged in fear.

"Hey, hey, don't worry. These are electromagnets, which means they only work when electricity passes through the magnets in question. No power, no electromagnetic field, therefore no explosions."

Shoulders dropping and eyes shrinking back to normal, the Raeburn relaxed in her chair, remaking on the scrolls.

"Its amazing how small things things get... How do they do it?"

Smiling, I offered the third explanation and the last one I would need.

"Up until they started to use dust to power these things, the battery would be the biggest part. Also, these batteries needed to be charged so there had to be an extra circuit board to allow for that. With high quality dust, we suddenly can have devices which won't need a battery replacement in at least forty years. The system behind the scroll itself already existed, it just needed a better power source. The only question now, is how much money a person is willing to put into a device like a scroll. Isn't dust great?"

Shaking her head, Raeburn took me by surprise again.

"Its dangerous. Couldn't someone like you make these things explode in their owner's hands and faces with a good virus? Just turn up how powerful those magnets are and BOOM."

Chuckling, I admitted the flaw.

"You could do that with the old tablets which had non-dust batteries as well, you just had to short circuit the battery or the like. The only difference now is the size of the explosion. Of course with both systems there are fail safes to prevent that, however..."

Shaking her head, Raeburn began to walk over to her bed with scroll in hand, presumably in the name of social media.

"Think you can fix that thing?"

Looking at the torn down scroll, I shook my head.

"Nah, its too far gone. But, I can move the hard drive containing all the data to a new system. I happen to have enough parts of a total of three broken scrolls, including this one to build a brand new scroll of its own. Actually... I should be able to build a better model than the factory models."

In alarm, Raeburn turned to look at me with something similar to contempt.

"Trying to kill her already?"

With haste, I spoke quickly.

"Just a bigger hard drive, tweaked processor... I only play with the explosives I put in bombs and stuff."

Throwing her hands in the air, the girl offered the best of her sarcasm.

"Oh, because knowing that you build bombs is supposed to be comforting. What kind of a dark teenager are you!?"


	5. Chapter 5

_The Next Day, Oobleks's History Class - Jaune's Point of View_

"AND THAT, CHILDREN IS HOW DUST POWERED MAINFRAME COMPUTERS AND SIMILAR SERVERS HAD REVOLUTIONIZED THE ECONOMY AND ASSISTED MANY COMPANIES SUCH AS THE SCHNEE DUST ESTABLISHMENT MANAGED THEIR STARTUP FUNDS!"

In one breath, the most endearing and hyperactive professor had summarized about twenty years of what might be one of Remnant's most critical stages of growth in the entire surviving history. Oobleks class was always something to look forward to, watching the man move at inhuman speeds that only Ruby with her semblance could match. Looking across the room, sitting in dead left and last row sat the evermore depressing Tobias: perhaps the year's most... Unique newcomer. Opening my binder, a relic of a forgotten academic world of nostalgic wonder, I smiled to myself: such a wonderfully subtle way of getting back at the most aggravating Tobias. He had always demanded that I got myself an upgraded scroll, curtsy of his little electronics shop which occupied his apartment at no fee.

I don't care if its better than any manufacturer's best.

I don't care if its a gesture of friendship.

It takes a true gentleman to return to the classics.

And an extremely uncool friend to use a threat to such a classic as a prank.

Regretting the use of the binder to annoy the other man instantly, I opened the yellow and white binder, somehow triggering the release of a dozen miniaturized dust fireworks to ignite, jump up from my desk, to explode. With this, every set of eyes had instantly locked on to me, even stopping the professor who didn't even slow down for doughnuts to a dead halt. Standing straight up out of my chair, knocking it backwards onto the ground in my wake, I turn to point an accusing finger at the aloof Tobias... Who sat carelessly, using a pink nail file to perfect his nails, feet up on the desk, not even noticing the fireworks. This angering me even further, I allowed my emotions to slide to my lips, out bursting in rage.

"TOBIAS, YOU SON OF A-"

Sharply, Weiss then interrupted before I could finish the thought.

"Jaune, pick up your chair and sit back down."

Stuttering mindlessly, I allowed my glee to stretch across my face: Weiss spoke to ME! Directly to me!

"Y... Yes dear."

Shrinking back in her chair, blushing violently yet cutely, Weiss retreated back behind a book from my testament of obedience. Slicing me with a cruelty that only Tobias could possess and casting me down from my happy place, moved the other male teenager again. It happened that Weiss was sitting directly in the row in front of him, allowing the sly nerd to lean forwards and offer whispered words of pity and consolation that actually seemed to ease the crimson red which streaked her face. After the moment between the two had passed, the same Tobias then looked at me, cocking his head, enchantingly.

_That... Charming... Traitor!_

* * *

_An Hour Later, Ooblek's History Class - Tobias' Point of View_

Not that I'm keeping score, or anything so childishly petty.

But...

_Tobias: 9  
Jaune: -1_

The negative one had been from Weiss's scolding of the most endearing white knight. That must have stung, but yet again? Knowing the masochist that is Jaune?

Needless to say, the additional seven points in my favor had been from the fireworks, the style behind it, the execution of method, and countless other taunts I had deployed against the blonde throughout the previous hour. Catching up to the poor youth I had tormented mercilessly for my entertainment, I place my hand on his shoulder, drawing his attention with an old joke.

"Hey there, Goldilocks! Sorry, was that your basket of goodies?"

Catching me in a headlock with a speed I never had anticipated from the rather airy blonde, I found myself in very much in the precarious situation, as if hanging onto a tiny capsule over the Mun, or ocean.

"You asked for this, you manically depressive egotistical self acclaimed bullheaded pseudo-intellectual!"  
"Dammit, Jaune... If only dust was a liquid, I'd spray you in the face with an intelligence serum..."

Turning the tables in a nearly literal way, I stepped forwards to place my assailant behind me while grabbing his shirt. With my victim fallen into the inescapable trap of notoriety while being in full view of the class, I unleashed the only judo move I knew.

"EAT THIS, YOU MAGNIFICENT BLONDE BASTARD!"

Sending the blonde in question to the ground before me, sprawled upon the ground at my feet. Descending upon the fallen combatant, I raise my hands, sadistically. Pleading to be spared from humiliation, Jaune began to beg.

"No... Please, no... Anything but that!"

With the teams JNPR and RWBY being the only persons who bothered to remain and watch, I looked up to a particular Ruby: the girl with undisguised interest. Addressing her directly, I offer her a comment, while smiling.

"Watch and learn."

The screams of the blonde rang out through the school, as I employed every tickling measure I knew without being too invasive. Perhaps the eight years worth of tickle assaults on the poor Jaune made things a little unfair, as it gave me the experience and knowledge needed to maximize the effects of the benign torture.


	6. Chapter 6

_Beacon Library - Jaune's Point of View_

I'm still randomly shuddering from the tickle counter-attack. I need to remember that, because soon enough, I'm going to spar with that damned nerd. But that's for later.

All is quiet now, actually. Sitting around the library, teams BEER, RWBY, and my own of JNPR, and Sun who had been accompanied by Neptune.

Curiously enough, one would think that Blake Belladona would have preferred to ignore Tobias after his spat with her friend Weiss. Contrary to that particular expectation, upon social contact at this library, they simply nodded to each other. After some time, their arrangement was clear: they would peruse the literary collections of the bookshelves together, Blake stacking books into Tobia's open arms. Sometimes the carrier would offer a suggestion, and Blake would add the book to the stack. After pursuing this for some time, they returned to the main group of us who still remained sitting at the tables. On the floor, sitting back to back, reading with the stack of books within the arm's reach of Tobias and Blake also on the ground, they quietly read. Since when did Tobias ever bother with books? He always reads off his scroll, always saying how books can't get updates, hyperlinks, or kawaii desktop buddies to give him high pitched reminders of everything he won't do anyways.

Hiding behind my magazine, I continued to watch as Ruby made the mistake of trying to talk to the pair, presumably to tease them. The result was mildly comical, ending with Blake sitting on Ruby, as the red rose simply laid there, muttering violence against the two. Its difficult to say exactly what happened, but between the reflexes of the two readers and Ruby's speed semblance made things nearly impossible to keep track of. To placate the younger girl, Tobias then simply took her scythe, and threw it across the room for Ruby to bolt out from under Blake to retrieve her precious weapon. Doesn't look like they'll be getting along anytime soon.

Suddenly, the magazine I had been reading had been snatched out of my hands by the Sensei Pyrrha, replacing the reading material that was previously in my hands with a thick book. Looking up to glare at her, my gaze of initial anger had been withered away by the red-headed Spartan's facial expression.  
I'll be nice, and let this one go. At least, that's what I want the ginger to think, since as she went to take my reading material of not porn, I quickly slipped my hand into her pocket, and took her room key card. I always needed an extra copy, but the only way to get these key cards is to bring them to someone who has sufficiently flexible morals and the technology skills needed to dupe the school's locking system. This really is why they don't let us use our scrolls to open the doors, but hey, when its this easy?

Meanwhile, Sun had decided that it was his turn to bid for Blake's attention, a justifiable concept. Since when did Blake ever so smoothly get along with anyone else like that? However, before Sun could even say a word, Tobias had pushed a book in his hands without looking up, shushing the monkey Faunus with his finger. The tech expert then shuffled over somewhat, allowing Sun some space to sit with the two readers, which Sun took no hesitation in assuming.  
How is it, that this newcomer had so easily and smoothly got along with everyone except Weiss, even Ruby when the scythe wielder was at her greatest annoying potential?

Since when has Sun been so interested in books? Pardon the pun, but he always seems to be monkeying around in the most nonacademic way any other regular time.  
As if Tobias had been listening in on my thoughts, he then got up, pointed to me, motioning me to follow as he began to walk away. Curious, I obeyed, putting the book down and my right hand on Crocea Mors. It never hurts to be prepared. Unlike the others, I know what Tobias' semblance is, but that only puts me at a severe disadvantage: knowing that his fancy ability has nothing to directly do with combat, Tobias' life had been split between going full geek into technology, or training for combat.

Weaving between the book cases, I then suddenly found myself facing my old friend, a old fashioned non-dust pistol of his and his older brother's old hobby in one hand, and Weiss's scroll in the other. The tip of the pistol was unique, with a long cylindrical attachment protruding from the end of the barrel: an addition which I knew from my time with the two brothers to be a silencer.

* * *

_Ozpin's Office - Ozpin's Point of View_

Sitting behind my desk as I always do, with a certain finesse and *fabulous*, I opened the glass container which encapsulated a spoon and multiple sugar cubes, using the spoon to drop a single spoon in the the hot coffee in the middle of my desk.

That's right.

Its on the middle of my desk.  
Suggesting not that the paperwork I should be doing is the priority, but that my coffee takes priority over the affairs of my job.  
That's right.

Sass.

Besides, its not every day that General Ironwood visits for the fun of it, any other day he would come spewing death, doom and gloom. Someone needs to annoy him, that Penny of his is just too sweet.  
Maybe another lump of sugar...  
Finally speaking up, Ironwood begins his little comments.

"Ozpin, shouldn't something other than coffee and sugar be on your desk?"

Totally called it. Of course he wouldn't be able to ignore my l33t sass.  
"Yes, Ironwood, like what?"

Stroking at his chin in mock thoughtfulness, the military man tilted his head for dramatic effect, while nursing his own coffee.

"How about cream?"  
Beacon Library - Jaune's Point of View

Uh...  
Shit.  
Why is there a gun pointed at my chest?

It's silenced too...

He could kill me now, disappear my corpse, and get away with it.  
It wouldn't be the first time Tobias made someone disappear.  
It wasn't the first time his older brother was in danger either.  
Sometimes family members make debts, and those close to you help pay them off. Tobias never seems to lack money or the capacity to get things done.  
In some ways, there are some things that Tobias can do that some of the most powerful militaries, even the Schnee Dust Company can't get away with.

Like a benevolent criminal.

The police force of Vale keep all their evidence copied on the central server, as well as all other relevant data.  
Someone like Tobias could make every finger pointing at him vanish, while creating execution warrants for those accusing him.  
The dark nerd wouldn't be above something like that, in fact...  
I could swear that he's done it before.  
And I just threatened him, with four fingers and a thumb doing nothing more than touching the hilt of a relic, a weapon of a very old war.

* * *

Ozpin's Office - Ozpin's Point of View

Ironwood, you smartass.  
Cream? What the hell do you mean, no cream?  
I need to keep up the impression that I drink black coffee, that glass jar is supposed to appear as a jar of mints, not sugar. Otherwise, who would take me seriously?  
The fact that he mentioned cream proves that he noticed that it was the only thing which wasn't missing.  
It means he saw right.

Through.

The.

Damn.

Jar.

But yet again, Ironwood always had the reputation as a marksman, the kind that requires very good eyes. No, wait a second, didn't I just add sugar to my coffee while he was RIGHT THERE? Damn, I need to pay more attention to what I do these days.

"General, we both know that there's a student who nearly shot a particular Mr. Arc, and you want to talk about cream and coffee?"

Rolling his eyes, the General revealed the scroll he had been holding between the desk. I had also been doing the same with my scroll, the pair of us watching the library security footage in our stakeout of watching Tobias.

"Naturally, my fine feathered headmaster."

With Ironwood's eyes lighting up, he offered an insight onto his latest idea onto me.

"We need to get Glynda into a maid's cosplay."

* * *

_Beacon Library - Jaune's Point of View_

Instead of ending my life, Tobias is offering me Weiss's scroll, while meaningfully looking at my right hand which rested on the hilt of my blade. Why isn't he killing me?

Frightened to the point that his hand trembled, Tobias seemed to have issues controlling his pocket protector as he spoke. "So this is what it is? End my brother, then me?"

That's right. My hand is on my sword. A mistake, really, when considering that the other person is carrying a set of blades designed to penetrate through the skull, even a rounded steel helmet, and still and gut the brain. Never knew he also carried a pistol, though, where was he concealing it? Trying to ease the situation, I answer the request.

"Oh... Sorry Tobias... Hey! You both are like cousins to me, I would never..."

Taking the offered scroll, I drop the hand which was on the hilt to my side, non-threateningly. In response, Tobias offers and apology.

"No, Jaune, I'm sorry. Here I am, back to the cruel teasing. I should be glad to be with an old friend again, especially when so much of my world has changed like this... And instead, I'm tormenting you and pointing a firearm at your gut. So you give that improved scroll back to Weiss. Tell her that a friend replaced it, with all her data that she lost with her destroyed scroll. Say that its a gift from that friend, who happens to develop scrolls for a living. Don't use my name, and take all the credit that you can, if needed, I'll back you up."

Nodding, easily, I sigh in relief as the other teenager lowered his weapon.

"I guess we're calling it even, Tobias?"

Doing some nodding of his own in agreement, the pair of us then walked back to the group together.  
I far prefer this to being shot by an ancient silenced pistol in the library. Once we entered in sight of the group, who still were playing their board games, reading, and Blake sitting on Ruby, I stopped cold, nerves getting the better of me.

Tobias turning his head to look at me, as he stopped at the same time as I did, reflexively, he slaps me on the back, shoving me forwards to where Weiss sat, crying over the loss of her holdings in the board game.  
This... Me shy with the girls, Tobias pointing guns at me, and him fixing tech to get me closer to someone of the opposite sex? Is just like old times.

I wonder what he's hiding...


End file.
